Pokemon: Mutation
by ecurps
Summary: Zeke travels the world taking in abused, tortured and mutated pokemon and gives them a home. When chasing down rumors, if he comes across people unbefitting of the title trainer, he discipline them with his militant skill and specially-trained pokemon.
1. Mission 1 1

Mission 01

"The nature of pokemon are even more chaotic than we think. When watching them in the wild, they take on the personality that nature intended; survive, adapt and populate. But if you throw humans into the equation, the pokemons' personalities reveal a malleability that one could never find in the rest of nature. More so than humans, Pokemon seem to take on a mentality that mirrors what they interact with. As an example, a Pokemon raised by an innocent child, the Pokemon will view the child as a friend or, in rare cases, a sibling. Going to the opposite end of the spectrum, if the influence is a thug or "law-breaker," then said Pokemon will tend to find enjoyment in whatever lawless or cruel activity their human does, typically having a master-servant relationship. There is also the "trainer": the human who attempts to nurture the strengths of the Pokemon and teach them society's "Right and Wrong." Balancing between kindness and force, these Pokemon are taught to use their power only when all other means to solve an issue are exhausted. These Pokemon are the most conflicted, for there are many facets of right and wrong."

- Excerpt from "Pokemon Personalities: Yours or Theirs?" in _Pokemon Journal Monthly_

The ride on the Magnetic Train was rather bumpy. Zeke stumbled out of the train. Wobbling slightly, he made his way to a sturdy wall. He hadn't been this unsteady since that class he had taken in sea battles back at the academy. The memory brought a chuckle to his throat and a smile to his face. When he had gotten his land-legs back (another chuckle, another memory), Zeke hefted his duffel up to his shoulder and headed out of the station.

Goldenrod was as busy as the last time he was here, if not busier. People bustled about their daily lives. From his left he felt the sea breeze blow in, carrying the cries of birds, the surf and the voices of the people at the beach.

Deciding to wander a bit, Zeke headed out to the main street. Being one of those big cities held together by tourism, Goldenrod's main street consisted of only four lanes: two heading north, and two heading south. The remaining space was sidewalk, which were constantly filled with people doing... well, the gods knew what.

Shifting his duffel again caused Zeke to look down. Beneath his boot was a crumpled poster. Looking around, Zeke noticed the rest of the pavement was litter-free. Bumping a couple passerby, Zeke knelt down and picked up the poster. In large, gaudy letters, the poster read:

SEE THE MARVEL FROM ACROSS THE SEA!

SEE YOUR HOME TOWN FAVORITES FACE OFF AGAINST THE MYSTERIOUS FREAK OF NATURE!

At the bottom, in smaller text, was:

FIGHTS HELD IN GOLDENROD CASINO.

"'Freak of Nature,' huh?" Zeke scoffed.

He had seen Pokemon from Kanto to Unova and everywhere else in between.

"Why not..."

Folding up the poster and pocketing it, Zeke started his search for the casino.

The casino wasn't that hard to find. Being one of the four biggest buildings; two being the Radio Tower and the Magnet Train Station which were next door to each other, and the third the Goldenrod Dept. Store, was the tallest. Of course the sign with "CASINO" in flashing neon lights made it easy.

Zeke's duffel shifted again, so he adjusted the strap as he walked into the building, the sliding doors i_SWOOSHING_/i open for him.

With all the gamblers, it took Zeke a while to find the main desk. There was a relatively long line at the desk, yet not five feet from the, what, clerk?, was a young woman in an outfit with "Goldenrod Casino" printed on the front. Ignoring the line, Zeke walked up to the woman.

"Excuse me. Where's the fight being held?"

The lady immediately looked unsteady. "I'm sorry, sir. But I'm not sure what you mean," her eyes shifted left and right.

Zeke took a long shot. "According to this flier," he pulled the folded up poster from his pocket and set it on the counter, "there are fights being held here. Now, from your expression, Pokemon pit-fights aren't exactly legal here and a lot of people would suffer greatly if I just happen to slip this to a police officer."

The woman looked around again, probably to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Follow the back wall," she whispered fervently. "Beside the copse of planted trees is a poster hiding the button. You'll have thirty seconds."

Zeke was about to ask, "Thirty seconds for what?" when the woman called loudly, "Excuse me, ma'am! Might I be of assistance?"

Taking it as his cue to "scram," Zeke glanced around for a wall and a copse of potted plants.

Being a fairly large building, it took Zeke a good thirty or forty minutes to find those damn trees. He found the poster, some gambling prize advertisement, and scoured it and the area around it for the "hidden button." Not finding anything looking remotely like a button, Zeke dropped his duffel and sighed in exasperation.

Rubbing his face, he felt the stubble on his face and remembered the sailors and cooks with goatees and soul patches. Passively, he thought about growing a goatee. "Might look good on me..." he mumbled.

As he bent for his duffel, a play of light and shadow caught his eye. A wrinkle in the poster was practically invisible unless viewed from just the right angle. Zeke lightly ran his fingertips over the wrinkle and felt a bit of the wall wiggle. Using the pads of his middle and ring fingers, Zeke pressed the "hidden" button. There was a faint sound of stone scraping stone to his right. A startled step back and Zeke saw stairs fall into alignment leading beneath the floor.

'Thirty seconds,' Zeke remembered and quickly descended the steps. Reaching a curve in the stairway, Zeke heard the steps move again and almost began to panic. Looking up, he saw that only the steps directly beneath the opening had closed.

A dull roar echoed off the walls, which grew louder as Zeke continued down. The noise was monstrous when he reached the bottom. It was so loud the steel door separating the stairwell and the pit vibrated angrily. Zeke grabbed the handle and opened the foot-thick steel door, which swung in easily on well-oiled hinges.

Spectators, betters, degenerate gamblers all; their screams and roars and jeers hit Zeke like a brick wall. He was pretty sure his ears were destroyed. Movement caught his eye and he looked left where a woman who had dyed her hair three different shades of blue was waving her arm to get his attention. Closing the door, Zeke stepped up the desk.

Her mouth moved, but all Zeke could hear was the insane, droning voices down in the pit. The blue-haired woman's mouth moved again and Zeke thought he caught "ear piece." Jerking his thumb to his ear and shaking his head, Zeke tried to convey that he could not hear her. The woman rolled her eyes.

She opened a drawer, pulled something out in a clutched fist and stuck out her hand to Zeke. He slid his hand, palm up, under the woman's. Carelessly, she dropped the item into Zeke's open hand. It was a pair of blue ear plugs. Picking one up between his fingertips, Zeke saw that the earplug had tiny circuitry beneath the squishy, blue padding.

Zeke looked at the woman again, who pointed at her ear. Taking the hint, Zeke crammed one plug into each ear; his eyebrows raising as the noise from the pit muffled.

"How's your ears feel?" a staticy female voice echoed in the sudden quiet in his head.

He looked back up at the woman behind the counter who wore a smirk that had Cheshire-cat potential.

"Still kinda ringin'," Zeke replied with a small grin.

"Well, that's what you get for coming down to the pit without proper ear protection," the woman said with a chuckle. "So, can I help you with something?"

Zeke adjusted his duffel. "Found this flier on the road and wanted to see the so-called 'Freak of Nature'."

The woman's face flattened. Zeke could tell a serious line had been crossed.

With a deep sigh the woman stood and swung herself over the desk. A quick glance at the poster, she then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it behind the desk.

"Call me Lynn," she said offhandedly. Stopping at the top of a staircase, Lynn glanced over her shoulder at Zeke. "You comin'?"

Zeke kept three steps behind Lynn as she showed him where everything was and how the pit worked. Lynn took the bets after the sparring fights. The fights ran similar to a tournament. There were other, etiquette rules that Zeke ignored to some extent. One rule interested him, though. "Anyone may fight."

Lynn finished the impromptu tour down at ringside.

"Betting is about to start, so I'll leave you here," Lynn gave Zeke a coy smile. "Enjoy the fights."

These pokemon fought like animals. Fire flew, Claws gouged, teeth tore and fists pounded. More than once the losing fighter had to be carried out on stretchers or gurneys.

Finally, the Main Event. The "Freak of Nature" Zeke had been wanting to see. Watching all the fights had made him somewhat queasy, but he assumed, he i_hoped_/i, these pokemon were well compensated.

A portly man stepped into the cage. Using whatever frequency the earplugs were on, the man made the announcements.

"And now! The fight you all have been waiting for! I am pleased to give you the 'Freak! Of! Nature!' Blaziken! From! Hoooennn!"

Zeke had seen Blaziken while he was at the academy, but none of them looked like this one. Overall it looked normal, though the V-crest of feathers on its head was cropped short. Normally a Blaziken's beaked face is covered in fine, red feathers; this Blaziken's face, however, was encased in a bony mask. Among its other curiosities, there were four fingers instead of three and both hands, forearms, shins and feet had what looked like either hardened feathers or protruding bone covering the outsides like greaves and gauntlets.

"Aaaand his opponent! Hailing from our very own Goldenrod! The undefeated champion! Maaaachaaaamp!"

It was obvious how much the Machamp had been trained. Plenty of scars were scattered across its body, but beneath the skin and scar tissue, you could see the thick, corded muscles that twitched with every move – Zeke figured it flexed them like that for effect.

Machamp removed his championship belt and hoisted it up with his upper arms. Cheers echoed off the walls, mixing together into a bone-vibrating roar. Passing the belt to his trainer, Machamp caught the trainer's startled expression; diving to his right just as Blaziken's kamikaze-style flying kick rocketed toward him.

Dodged, Blaziken crashed heavily into the chain link cage.

Guards slammed the cage doors quickly and set the padlocks.

Blaziken glared at Machamp from where he knelt on the mat. That cocky grin irritated him. Pushing off with his hands, Blaziken popped up, landing expertly on his feet. Taking measure of their opponent, Machamp and Blaziken padded around the cage, circling each other, waiting to see who would make the next move.

Showing a lack of patience, Blaziken rushed in, bringing his right leg up into a powerful kick. Catching Blaziken's leg, Machamp gave a leering grin as he held the wiry leg between his two left arms. Bouncing slightly, Blaziken twisted, snapping a small kick at Machamp's head.

Easily blocking the kick by catching his left ankle, Machamp tucked Blaziken's other leg against his body, holding it with his two right hands. With a grunt, Machamp hoisted Blaziken up and slammed him back down, knocking the wind out of his opponent. Flexing his muscles, Machamp lifted Blaziken up again, began spinning around, and hurled him into the cage wall surrounding the ring.

Blaziken got up on his elbows, dazed still from the attack; not knowing he was being stalked by the behemoth he had dared challenge.

Grabbing a fist-full of coarse feathers, Machamp dragged the scrawny challenger to his feet, held him a moment to be sure he was steady, and used Cross Chop, driving his thick hands into Blaziken's ribcage. He knew this match was finished. Bigger enemies had fallen to this move; there was no way this foreigner could withstand it. Raising his arms, Machamp turned to his trainer and headed back to the gate he had entered from.

Blaziken got to his knees shakily, coughing up blood. Looking up at the back of his opponent, the roar of the humans around them rumbled in his body. Memories of insults and phantom jeers made anger boil in his stomach. Machamp's cocky smile sent Blaziken over the edge.

Growling, Blaziken slammed his fist against the mat. Pushing himself up into a sprinter's position, he ran, skidding to a stop just shy of two feet behind Machamp and swung a Blaze Kick into the side of Machamp's right knee, bringing the "Undefeated Champion" to his knees.

On his feet, Blaziken dashed to the cage wall, jumped on to the fencing, and used the recoil to propel himself into the air. As he rose, he used Ember, bombarding Machamp with a steady stream of fist-sized fireballs.

A small attack like Ember did little more than singe the fine hairs on his arms. Once the heat died, Machamp dropped his arms and looked around, then up. Blaziken hovered over him, right foot ablaze. Minutes stretched as Blaziken descended upon him.

Burning heat and the power of a ten-foot drop behind the stomp – plus Blaziken's weight added to the attack – Machamp's ribcage didn't stand a chance.

Blaziken looked down at his opponent, felt the crushed ribs under his foot; one thought shot through his mind as quickly as the battle had seemed to end: i_I think I killed him_/i. The roar of the crowd around him crashed in on him as he stood, making way for the medics to check over Machamp's wounds. His trainer was there. Crying and screaming as muscular humans held him back so the medics could do their work. Turning his head, All he saw beyond the cage was the yelling, grotesque faces of humans. All yelling. Cheering. Booing. Except one. A young male in the front row leaned on the fence that kept the voyeurs away from the ringside. He didn't cheer. He didn't boo. He simply stared. Stared at Blaziken. There was knowledge in his eyes. A hint of disgust. And, surprisingly, sorrow. That look he gave made something squirm in Blaziken's gut. Was it shame? No, it couldn't. Blaziken glanced at his "trainers." Greedy smiles scrunched their faces. They wouldn't have wept if he had been beaten. Not like Machamp's trainer. His "trainers" had won a very large sum, judging from the size of the bag they were handed. Blaziken moved to join them, but something made him look back at the other male. That expression of knowing-disgust-sadness still on his face as he picked up the bag at his feet. His gut squirmed again.

He was wrong.

It was shame.

END


	2. Mission 1 2

Mission 01.2

The fight was brutal, to say the least. It had lasted maybe seven minutes, but it was definitely brutal. Unless the medics they had were top notch the Machamp was going to die.

Blaziken had wandered closer to the cage, staring directly at him. Beneath the exhaustion Zeke saw an underlying emotion. The longer he looked he more obvious the emotion Blaziken was trying to hide.

Zeke lifted his duffel and headed for the reception area. Lynn had returned to the front desk and sat with her head propped on one arm, a magazine open on the desktop.

Glancing up at Zeke as he approached, she smiled. "Enjoy the match?" Zeke stopped and looked at her, moving only his eyes.

Seeing the slight paleness of his face, Lynn asked, "What's wrong? A little bloodshed make you queasy?"

He stepped up to the desk. "Doesn't it bother you to see pokemon fight simply for human entertainment and greed?"

The feverous look in his eyes and rigidly set jaw worried her. Scribbling on a notepad she said, "We can't really talk here. Meet me at the cafe on the roof of the Department Store." His eyes shifted to the paper then back to Lynn. "Just take it," she said sternly. Her coy smile brightening her eyes. "Think of it like a date."

Gamblers and spectators ascended to the front room, the general arguing and haggling growing louder as the mob of degenerates made their way to the exit.

Snatching up the bit of paper, Zeke stomped out of the Pit, slamming the heavy door behind him as best as it would allow. Up above, the activity in the casino had lessened a bit, if only just.

The day was turning out to be a cool one. A thin cover of clouds and stiff breeze from the south made a pleasant change from the oppressive heat Goldenrod was usually subjected to.

Lynn found Zeke sitting at a table close to the railing, staring out at the city, face looking into the wind.

"Beautiful from up here, isn't it?" Lynn said with a soft smile.

Zeke gave a short snort. "I'm not looking at the city. I'm looking at the forest."

"Forest?" Lynn looked beyond Goldenrod's order to Ilex Forest. "What's so great about the forest."

"At the academy, we had this month-long course: using just your gear and the forest itself, navigate your way through the forest to the rendezvous point. If you didn't make it there in thirty days they left you behind," Zeke chuckled at the memory.

Cold chills ran across Lynn's body as she watched Zeke chuckle darkly. "What the hell kind of "academy" did you go to? A military school?"

Zeke looked over at Lynn and with a blank expression on his face, replied, "Yeah. It was."

Lynn blinked twice and sighed. Sitting down in the chair next to him, she asked, "So, how many made it?"

He said nothing for a moment, his gaze staring a little over her left shoulder.

"Class... uh... twenty-seven," he continued to stare vacantly. Fingers twitched as he tried to recall the memory. "And only... ten of us made it to the chopper."

"Don't sweat it," Zeke chuckled at Lynn's horrified expression. "We only lost three students. They just told us it was life-or-death because they wanted to simulate a "behind enemy lines" scenario. There were wild pokemon living on the island, after all." His voice hardened, his gaze returned to watch the wind play through the lush foliage.

"And they didn't let you bring even one pokemon to help you?" Lynn had become enthralled by the range of emotions on Zeke's face.

Astonishment lit Zeke's face. "That was the whole point." Turning in toward the table, Zeke took a drink of his tea. "Our particular academy's main focus is to train potential militant trainers that could contend with pokemon in battle. So, we were taught and trained to use advanced tactics and superior strategy to best other trainers who's only fighting style was ordering pokemon around."

"We trained against combative trainers, too," he added quickly. "Would have been stupid to only train us in one thing, wouldn't it," Zeke laughed, his wide grin softening his angular face.

'Even thought he's been through a lot, laughter comes so easily to him,' Lynn though with a sad smile.

"Now, does this description of your childhood have anything to do with your bad attitude yesterday in the Pit?"

The laughter and softness faded away with his grin.

"Lets just say I didn't fit into their mold."

"Huh?"

"After being told that forcing pokemon to fight was weakness, I took it a step further, that forcing them to fight at all was wrong. Just because they can't tell us off doesn't give us the right to make them do our bidding."

His eyes hardened, jaw clenched. "Just because they're conditioned to not defend themselves against us doesn't mean we can torture them."

Lynn watched his fist clench so tight his knuckles turned white.

The feel of a soft, cool hand on his made Zeke look back at Lynn.

"What's the plan?"

Zeke cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Come on," she said with her usual coy smile. "Considering how much the Pit seems to piss you off, you're planning on causing them a whole lotta hell, aren't you?"

With a sinister grin, Zeke told her his plan.

The Pit was loud again; the jeering, betting and cheering was a dim rumble to Zeke who had plugged the ear buds in before he had even opened the heavy steel door.

Private bets, group bets, money gained, money lost, battles won, enemies defeated. Amidst the ruckus were rumors. Rumors that spread like a plague about a challenger who had bribed the higher-ups for a match against the new champion.

With the last fight completed, the highlighting trainers were summoned down to the ring for the pre-fight meeting with the referee. As Blaziken and his two masters walked up to the referee, the pokemon noticed that his opponent's master was the human that had made him feel that strange emotion, that feeling of shame. He stood beside the referee with his hands in the pockets of his camouflage pants. From what Blaziken could tell he was about six feet tall. The shaved head seen incongruent with his unshaved, stubbly beard. Yet the way he held himself and the hardness of his eyes betrayed the fact that he had been trained, or at the very least been through much hardship in the few years he had been alive, the lack of wrinkles on his face suggested he was just entering his twenties.

In the years he had fought in these damned pits, Blaziken had learned that a fit trainer meant a fit pokemon. Most were either weak or disgustingly obese and those images had been conveyed onto their pokemon; but on the rare occasion, when the human was fit, in any meaning of the word, the pokemon they trained had some amount of actual skill. Just looking at the male, Blaziken knew this fight was going to earn him good experience.

"Alright, you all know the rules already," the referee told the three trainers. "Just 'cause this shit's illegal don't mean you can do whatever you feel like. I want a clean fight here, no cheap shots, no items and no boosters. Hey, new guy. Where's your pokemon?"

Zeke's lips twitched into a smirk.

"Hey, asshole! Who's gonna fight for you?" The burly referee's face was deepening to a dark crimson.

"He's gonna fight me," Zeke replied, still smirking.

The referee reached out to grab Zeke's shirt when one of the Blaziken's trainers spoke up, "It's alright, ref," taking the referee aback. "He doesn't have to show us. Lets just make it a surprise."

Lynn's insight hit the nail right on the head. This one was the brains – more or less – of the two. He was slender and very rat-like in appearance with an unnaturally pointed face. His upper incisors' size only added to the likeness, sticking out like from his mouth like a Rattata's buck teeth. Number Two of the duo was the exact opposite of his partner, to Zeke's amusement. The second man was basically a brick wall made of flesh. Easily a whole foot shorter than Zeke himself, this guy was definitely three, if not four, times his weight. Having no visible neck, Zeke could only compare him to a runt Snorlax, if one could have ever existed. Adding to the hilarity was the fact that someone must have told them that dressing in the same suit was a smart idea. Where the rat-man looked frail in his, the fabric of the poor suit on his associate looked as if it were a flex away from becoming tatters on his enormous figure.

The referee ground his teeth as he thought over the rules and whether he should care or not. It was a short argument and he told the trainers to get to their respective gates.

Cage keepers stood beside the open gates, ready to lock the combatants inside. Blaziken was already in the ring when Zeke got to his gate. As Zeke climbed into the ring the referee and the gate keepers began sputtering protests.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Get down from there!"

Zeke turned to the three men shouting at him.

"Rules say anyone can fight. I wanna fight."

The men stood dumbfounded. Glancing at each other warily, the referee put a finger to his left earpiece. Apparently using a private line, Zeke waited for the ruling. Seconds passed before the ref lowered his hand and looked at the gatekeepers. Looking up at Zeke, he nodded with a sigh, "He's got the go-ahead."

Zeke's face split with a small grin as he stepped further into the cage, away from the gate.

Blaziken blinked in confusion. The human had climbed into the cage and was walking over to him with a grin on his face. He was caught off guard so much he did not even get angry at the man's smile. When it had finally registered, Blaziken couldn't get angry; the smile on his opponent's face was not mocking or malicious. It was amusement. Blaziken tried to build up the small amount of anger that smile stirred in him, but failed utterly as he saw the human was simply entertained with the fight he had stepped in to.

Fighting for fun. The whole idea baffled Blaziken so much so it was border-line confusing.

Hearing the gates close and lock rattle against the metal made Blaziken aware that the round human that announced the fights was outside the ring.

"Dear patrons of the Pit!" the announcer proclaimed over the earpiece speaker system. "We have an... unusual match for your viewing pleasure tonight. Hailing from Ecruteak, the challenger, Zeeeke!"

Zeke smiled as he felt the gamblers' loud murmur rise to an outraged roar; the soudwaves vibrating violently through his body.

"And his opponent. Our new champion! The Freak of Nature! Blaziken! From! Hoooenn!"

Blaziken cast a dark glance at the announcer; Zeke caught. That bone mask would normally make it nearly impossible for Zeke to read his opponent's mood. Thankfully, this pokemon wore his emotions on his sleeves. Anger made Blaziken's body tremble slightly, as if he was trying his damnedest to keep it contained. Somehow it made Zeke a little uneasy.

While Zeke watched Blaziken, he noticed a buzzing noise. When Blaziken hunched over, Zeke took it to mean the fight was about to start. All of a sudden, the ear buds beat a staticy pulse into Zeke's ears.

"What the-?" he said, pulling one bud out.

A deep humming thrummed around the combatants. Zeke, keeping a wary eye on the Blaziken, pulled out the other ear bud and examined the fencing surrounding the cage. It visibly vibrated, the hum emanating from it reminded Zeke of those bug distractors they set up at big outdoor events.

"Huh... So the noise doesn't throw the fighters off," Zeke mused, holding his hand over the buzzing fence.

Turning back to Blaziken, Zeke saw he was ready to fight; muscles tensed, knees bent, fists raised. Retaking his place on the mat, a small smile spread on his face as he took a calm, neutral fighting stance. With subdued eagerness, Zeke beckoned Blaziken to start the fight.

Taking the human's attention for readiness, Blaziken ran in, expecting a good fight and a quick finish.

Blaziken ran up to Zeke, cocking his right arm back as the distance closed between them. Sending out a straight right jab, he was startled when Zeke slid his right hand down Blaziken's arm and smoothly passed behind him. In his astonishment, Blaziken stopped, attempting to process what had just happened, something hard hit the back of his head and stars lit up his vision.

'That jab was so sluggish,' Zeke mused as he deflected the pokemon's punch. Stepping passed the attack, Zeke thought about the training regimes he had learned and almost felt bad about using his training to defeat a pokemon who had only learned to brawl. Back to back with Blaziken, Zeke lifted his right arm and snapped his elbow into the back of Blaziken's skull. It wasn't enough to be fatal, but he knew the blow would knock him silly.

Vision blacked out, splotches of white and purple exploding behind his eyes, Blaziken stayed down on one knee, his fists planted on the mat holding himself steady. When his sight finally began to return, Blaziken looked over his shoulder at the human, surprised at the blow he had landed; but also surprised by how his opponent had not capitalized on the move. He had had Blaziken at a distinct disadvantage.

Zeke watched as the downed pokemon stared at him over his shoulder. He knew keeping back was throwing Blaziken off, that the fighters that frequent the Pits take every advantage they could.

Wobbling slightly, Blaziken regained his feet, turning as he stood to face his opponent. Anger and frustration burned in his eyes, body trembling with emotion. Fists clenched tight, Blaziken rushed in again. Right fist cocked back again, Blaziken believed this feint would connect, having worked on multiple opponent's during his career. Within range, Blaziken planted his right foot, his left fist rose in a brutal swing for Zeke's face.

Too obvious.

Instead of simply transferring the pokemon's momentum and slipping behind him again Zeke snatched hold of Blaziken's arm just below the elbow, planted his right foot inside the pokemon's step, Zeke's right shin and Blaziken's left crossing, and twisted at the waist, pulling Blaziken and making him over-extend the lunge.

Caught off guard again and unable to set his other foot to catch himself, Blaziken fell with a crash to the mat.

"Faster."

Confusion swirled in Blaziken's mind. Did the human just instruct him? Was that all this was to him, a sparring match? Again he stood, slowly this time. Anger that had boiled in his veins reduced to a simmer. The human stood withing arm's reach, the smile gone from his lips but a hint of amusement remained in his eyes. Something within Blaziken calmed as he stood staring at his human opponent.

The gamblers and staff watched in awe as Blaziken exploded in a flurry of rapid punches. That alone would have pleased the crowd, yet the shouting, the cheering and the betting grew to monumental heights as they watched the human challenger match the pokemon's attacks with a stream of effective blocks, the din increasing as Zeke willingly and easily gave ground to this savage pokemon.

Blaziken halted his assault as he realized his opponent was blocking his punches with apparent ease.

Standing with four strides between them, Blaziken's breath came in ragged gasps, his feathers in some combination of frizzy and dripping with sweat. Zeke breathed deeply, a light sheen of perspiration covered his face and made his shirt cling to his body.

After a few more breaths, Zeke said with a grin, "Good. Faster."

Blaziken stopped breathing when he heard his opponent's words. _Faster_? Was he crazy? The pokemon's breathing started evening out when an idea hit him. Since learning it he'd only used that move once. It had seemed redundant to use it in the pits when he could win with pure physicality. Plus, he didn't know if there would be any adverse after-effects now.

Breathing steady and even again, Blaziken decided it was worth it.

In one moment Blaziken stood before him and the next he was gone from Zeke's vision. Zeke blinked, his eyes snapping left and right. Then the noise started. With a metallic rattle, the chainlink fencing shook violently as if they were under barrage by a hurricane.

'Agility,' Zeke mused, muscles tense, slowly pivoting to keep his eyes on as many spots as he could. After one rotation he stopped, his head facing left, panning to the right.

In that instant Blaziken struck.

With a cry to battle, Blaziken ricochetted off the chainlink fence, kicking off with his right foot, he set it ablaze and kicked his challenger in the head, his shin plates tearing the flesh from the human's face, the fire guaranteeing the scar would last.

Hit by the Blaze Kick with such impact snapped Zeke's head to the side awkwardly and sent him flying into the fencing to his left. Crashing heavily, Zeke began squirming frantically, clutching his burned and bruised face.

Zeke screamed.

The gate closest to Zeke swung open and three burly referees with a man in a white doctor's coat rushed in, the roar of the audience flooded in with them. Two of the muscular men stood between Blaziken and Zeke, blocking the combatants.

Rummaging through his med kit, the doctor skimmed over bottles, fingers twitching, while the third referee tried to wrestle Zeke's hands from his face. Eventually he pinned Zeke's wrists to the mat and upon seeing the blistered, angry wound, shouted at the doctor "Burn Heal! Now, dammit!"

Finding the appropriate bottle, the doctor twisted the top, enabling the aerosol lever and attempted to keep Zeke's head still without aggravating the burn.

Spritzing Zeke's face three times, the Burn Heal acted fast, cooling the burn, halting the pain, but causing a soft, white smoke to rise from the scar.

"What's the damage, doc?" the referee had walked to the gate to speak with the doctor who was packing the kit away.

"Stop the match," he replied, sighing. Seeing the ref scowl, he quickly added, "We can't be held accountable for this. Injured pokemon are common, but a human with wounds that appear to be of pokemon origin will bring investigations. It'd turn into a witch hunt. Plus, if he recovers, he could expose us to the authorities."

Blaziken growled, having been sent to the furthest corner away from his opponent. Not that he didn't need the rest; he in fact did! Using Agility to such extreme had depleted everything from him, making him both physically and mentally exhausted. What he witnessed next, though, made his draw drop open and almost wish the referees had made him leave the ring.

He stood. Head hung low, he advanced on the two referees who had their backs to him, dutifully watching the aggressive pokemon, making sure it didn't try to finish off the challenger. Much to their surprise, a heavy blow sent the guard on the right reeling and made the second yelp. Gripping the second by the shirt, Blaziken's opponent pivoted, heaved, and bodily tossed the large man at the open gate, slamming into the head referee who had been conversing with the pit's doctor, knocking both men completely out of the ring. The guard who had been hit first stumbled and held his head, trying to gather his wits, when the burned man grabbed the back of his shirt, almost dragging him to the gate and tossed him out on to the other two referees. The doctor stood to the side, mouth gaping open like a fish's.

Unhitching the lock from the fence, Zeke yanked the gate closed and locked it from the inside. Gate locked and the rabble of the gamblers silenced, Zeke turned, facing Blaziken.

An unsettling new feeling washed through Blaziken as his eyes locked with his opponent's. Fear steeped his weary body in a chill that came from nowhere. Tremors shook him to the core, causing his hands to twitch and knees to wobble.

Zeke stared, his cold gaze emotionless, a trick he learned that instilled fear into his opponents.

He had taken a step! He was approaching! Blaziken watched the challenger walk ever closer, then realized he, too, was walking; his irrational fear pulling him closer to this scary, new human.

Half way across the mat, Blaziken's rational broke. Running head-long at the human, Blaziken brought his right fist up for a wild Haymaker that was too "wild."

Expanding his militarily trained body and skills to their maximum, Zeke snapped his left hand out, heel of his palm cracking square into Blaziken's sternum. Mercilessly, Zeke punished the pokemon. Reflexes lightning-fast, Zeke punched Blaziken's forearms at the elbow and sternum with the heels of his hands. Alternating between the arms and chest, Zeke beat at the pokemon.

Zeke pounded into the pokemon numerous times, so much so that no one could tell how many blows had landed.

At some point Zeke decided to stop, but he hadn't finished. Jumping in to the air, Zeke brought his hands together, laced his fingers, and as he descended connected his clenched fists with the top of Blaziken's head, between the bone's crests.

Blaziken fell to the mat cold, blood leaking from his mouth.

Zeke stood for a moment, maybe longer, then walked over and sat against the fencing. No more than five minutes passed when Blaziken made a noise. Hearing the sound, Zeke stood back up, strode to the downed pokemon and squatted next to him, staying up on the balls of his feet.

"You hear me, yes?" Zeke asked coldly. A groan rose from Blaziken.

Roughly grabbing a part of Blaziken's crest, Zeke pulled the pokemon's head off the mat and repeated, "You hear me. Yes?"

A single bob of his head was all Blaziken could manage.

"You're wasting your potential here. With real training you could be amazing. Do you want out of here?"

Blaziken froze, holding his breath. Weak still, the pokemon cracked an eye and stared at his opponent. Beneath the male's stern expression was a hint of sadness. Mouth dry, Blaziken bobbed his head again, a cascade of emotions flooding through him, none which he could identify.

Zeke smiled darkly, "Then lets give 'em a hell of an end and get the fuck out of here."

Releasing Blaziken's crest, Zeke righted and moved to lean in his corner.

Body sore and shaking, Blaziken slowly stood. Drawing in ragged breaths, he fought to stay on his feet. Moving slightly, stretching and testing his bruised muscles and strained tendons, Blaziken took measure of his flame. It was almost gone, but he had enough to pull this last stunt off.

Taking a few more deep breaths, Blaziken set his fire free. Wisps of flame leaked from his body, following their usual paths over his feathers and out into the air. The wisps slowly built, more fire seeped from his body. Minutes went by and soon he was engulfed in an aura for flame.

He stood there and Blazed. Blaziken could feel the familiar heat through his feathers, but he could also feel the chill within him; the dark cold that told him that he had used too much of his fire. It had to be now, before he lost too much heat, making his attack too weak to do the deed. Channeling fire to his right leg, Blaziken readied his stance. Using Blaze Kick set fire in a specific area, so Blaziken had to concentrate more to keep the flame down on his foot.

The time to act was now. Bringing his foot up, Blaziken leaned back on his left to keep some balance, then, with all his might, brought his burning foot down in an ax kick straight into the mat.

Surprise and shot flooded the room, followed quickly by shouts and screams of pain and rage. Blaziken's foot came down on the mat and the cage was torn asunder. Fractures spread from the impact, Blaziken the epicenter, fire catching on the fabrics and flammable parts. The links in the cage itself snapped and melted.

Amid the dust, smoke and chaos, Zeke and Blaziken made a break for the exit. Even with the crowds of gamblers to contest against, both human and pokemon made it to the reception area, up to the Goldenrod Casino and out on to the main street before the fires were even beginning to be extinguished.

They ran hard, Zeke, having left his duffel in storage that morning at the gate to the National Park, was unburdened. Blaziken, sore and worn out from the fight, lagged behind, breathing heavily, yet determinedly keeping pace with Zeke.

Twenty minutes had gone by when they finally arrived at the National Park main gate; both man and pokemon collapsing in the grass.

Blaziken sucked in ragged breaths next to the human, body heaving, claws digging into the ground. Barking laughter sounded next to him. Glancing to his left, the pokemon watched his former opponent laughing raucously.

"That was amazing," he said, still breathing heavily. "I knew you could pull it off." Zeke punched him lightly on the shoulder.

Chuckling some more, Zeke stretched out and lay back on the grass, closing his eyes against the sunlight playing through the lightly clouded sky.

**END**


	3. Mission 2 1

Mission 2.1

"When subjected to constant exposure and "training," pokemon may be taught how to fight that would normally contradict common thought. It is more rare for pokemon to learn elemental, or "special" attacks their own element [type], but it is possible to learn attacks that utilize attributes the pokemon is able to comprehend. (e.g.: pokemon originating from mountainous terrain to learn to swim; pokemon primarily accustomed to using mental (psychic) attacks to learn to use purely physical attacks – so long as it has appropriate physical attributes)."

- Excerpt from "Training Your Pokemon: Brains and Brawn" in _Pokemon Journal Monthly_

"That was quite a show."

Zeke cracked an eye. The sun had set far to the west, casting the speaker in silhouette. Light shining through her hair cast a blue halo around her head.

Grinning, Zeke curled up to a sitting position. "Hey, Lynn."

Glancing around, he found Blaziken sitting against a near-by tree. Turning back to Lynn, she held out a small manilla envelope.

"Here's your winnings. I placed it like you asked," a wry smile showing disbelief and amusement. I just can't believe they called it a draw. You'd think they would worry about losing clients."

"Neither can I," he replied with a chuckle. "You take your cut already?"

"No, that's all of it," she said, shaking her head. "I found a new job, so I'll be leaving the Pit. The pay's about the same, but more sound."

"Really? Where?"

Jerking her head towards Goldenrod, "Undermarts. Part-time at the Herb Shop and the Groomer."

Zeke liked the easy smile on the woman's face.

Lynn turned and started her walk back to Goldenrod, stopping after a few feet. "You know, I quit because of you." Half turning to look back at Zeke, "The way you talked yesterday. All that emotion over a subject most people don't even consider and take for granted."

Zeke watched her with a soft smile.

"Thank you," she said, quickly turning away, continuing on the long road back to the city.

Blaziken sat and watched the humans interact through slitted lids. The human stood, brushed and shook himself, knocking plant and other particles from his clothes. He strode up to Blaziken with an easy gait, calm softening his rugged appearance. Partially cast in shadow, the scar looked deep and menacing.

Hand extended, Zeke asked, "We're heading out. Wanna Maybe grab a bite?"

Blaziken blinked at how easy the human spoke to him, even after scarring him so horribly. Glancing at the offered hand, Blaziken shifted and stood on his own; staring at Zeke, waiting for this strange human to act.

Shrugging, Zeke turned and began walking toward the National Park main building.

Blinking, Blaziken growled incredulously at the human's blasé attitude and stepped quickly to follow.

Checking in his locker key, the duo made their way through the park. Blaziken watched trainers and pokemon in silent, subdued wonder. Winged pokemon flitted about; trainers played with their happy-faced partners.

Zeke glanced over his over his shoulder at Blaziken, his smile faltering as he watched the emotions his companion exuded. Disgust, contempt and anger showed in his eyes and step and posture. And under it all was jealousy.

Lack of movement made Blaziken stop, the human halted and half turned to face him.

"Not all trainers are like that."

Blaziken, his aggressive emotions boiling like his type trait, focused his contempt at the man before him.

"It's true we humans can do terrible things, take advantage of the gifts given to us," his voice soft and quiet, concern and sorrow pinching his face and shadowing his eyes. "But that doesn't mean we're all like that. Many people love pokemon. Some are considered friends, others are treated as pets. There's a lot of good out there," Zeke grabbed his companion's shoulder, a smile on his lips and the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. "And I want to show that to you."

One sentence. One sentence and a look made Blaziken's gut squirm and an odd, warm sensation having no connection to his fire gradually swell in his chest. This simple display of brotherly affection and compassion filled the pokemon with a feeling of wonder that washed away his hate and anger and jealousy like the tide that knocks down castles of sand and smooths it out until it is flat and again ready to be rebuilt. Thus was Blaziken's castle; not yet flat and ready, but the walls of rage he had built over the years slowly beginning to crumble. Shrewdness and cynicism were still there, ready to pounce and erect those walls again at the first sign of betrayal; but the seed of hope was there, fluttering like the standard of and ally, eager and willing to help in times of need.

Zeke smiled at the obvious wonder on the pokemon's face the feel of those tense muscles under his hand finally easing.

"C'mon. Lets get going," Zeke said with a pat on Blaziken's shoulder, "It'll take a couple hours to get to the other gate and I'm starving."

The mention of food made Blaziken's stomach growl. In response, Zeke broke into a wide grin and a hearty chuckle. Blaziken gave the man an irritated look as he turned and continued walking, the pokemon falling into step quickly.

It was well after dark when Zeke and Blaziken reached the second gate; the nocturnal bugs and plants going about their routines. Within the gate was a little restaurant, open at all hours to accommodate the different types of trainers.

"C'n I take yer order?" asked the petite woman when Zeke and Blaziken sat down at the counter. Two other trainers were eating, located at separate tables further away from the kitchen.

"Two steaks, oh, medium rare, please," Zeke answered after a quick glance at the menu on the wall.

"The other fer yer companyun?" the woman asked with a sideways glance at the pokemon.

Zeke looked from the waitress, to Blaziken - who looked at the woman hostily, body tense - and back. Dropping his cheery demeanor, Zeke leaned forward on the counter. "Is this going to be a problem? Shall I go around the area spreading the word that this place discriminates pokemon, refusing to serve them?"

Blaziken saw a hint of the monster he had seen in the ring: cold, hard eyes, low, even voice, face and expressionless mask.

The waitress pursed her lips, braving the scarred human's wrath. If he was bluffing, he did a damn good job of it. Finally she turned and gave their order to the cook in the back with controlled disgust and apprehension.

While they waited Zeke ran his finger tips over his new scar, feeling the ridges and depressions in his cheek and nose. He was lucky he could still breath through it.

Uneasiness spread through Blaziken who watched the man finger his wound.

Zeke was pulled from his musings by the chef's bell and call of "Two bulls to go!"

Boxed up, the waitress handed their steaks to Zeke curtly and with a cheerless "Have a nice night."

Zeke and Blaziken walked over to a low table with two long couches next to it.

Duffel on the floor near him, Zeke plopped down with a grunt; pulled the food out, passed one container to Blaziken sitting on the adjacent couch and pulled out a large pocket knife from a back pocket. He then dug into a side pouch on his duffel, manifesting a utility knife and held it out to the pokemon.

Blaziken, who had been inspecting his steak, eyed the red contraption suspiciously and looked at Zeke questioningly.

"Second from the left is the fork, knife's on the far right."

He went about cutting his meat, holding it steady with his fingers, audibly hissing and sharply inhaling as he worked on his slab of protein and eating while Blaziken inspected the compact tool.

Studying the utility knife, Blaziken found the three-pronged fork and knife where Zeke had said. He also found a spoon, corkscrew, and a claw-looking thing Blaziken wasn't familiar with.

Sliding the fork out, Blaziken watched Zeke carve a strip off his steak, skewer it with his blade tip, put it in his mouth and chew it as he went back to cutting. Looking back to the multi-tool in his hand, then down to his steak, Blaziken simply stabbed the meat, lifted it to his beak and bit off a moderately sized chunk , masticating it energetically and messily; more than half of the piece hanging out the side of his mouth.

Zeke stared, watching the sloppy method of consumption and couldn't resist laughing, causing Blaziken to stop eating and glare.

"Hahaha, I'm – heh – I'm sorry," he said, thankful he hadn't had any food in his mouth at the time. "You're supposed to cut the meat into manageable pieces, then eat it," he explained with a wide grin.

Blaziken's glare lessened. He slowly continued chewing as he looked down at the juicy steak hanging from the fork in his fist. With a small motion, which Zeke could surprisingly label a shrug, Blaziken let himself enjoy the tenderness and savory depth of flavor that tie within the steak.

Dinner was finished quickly. Zeke fell asleep on the couch he'd been sitting on; Blaziken let himself doze, still suspicious of the unfamiliar surroundings

Morning started early, Zeke's internal clock still set to military schedule, and with a quick run to the restroom and inventory check, the duo set out for Ecruteak. To Zeke's home.

The route to Ecruteak was, at a brisk pace, only a four hour trek. But Zeke wanted to take his time, no longer bound by the rush of the military. Contrary to rumors, wandering trainers aren't really pushy or battle-hungry. Most ask politely, even enthusiastically, but are understanding when rejected, if a bit put out. The trainers Zeke encountered as they walked were youths and teens, and few and far between besides.

With the sun nearing its zenith, Zeke and Blaziken reached Ecruteak.

As they entered Ecruteak, Blaziken noted the human had become more introverted, giving short hellos and brisk nods to whoever took notice of them. There was almost an underlying nervousness to him.

This was the first time Zeke had come home in five years. Back then he had to ask for directions to find his house, having not lay eyes on it since his father had enrolled him when he was seven. Six years of not being home, not seeing his father. He didn't get the welcome home he had been expecting. Now, after another five, years of absence, Zeke was filled with more than a little apprehension.

Zeke's father, Donathan Warwither III, did well in the Sinnoh Army, and when he finally proposed to Zeke's mother, he had a small, two-story house built for her. The foundation was set beside a small lake with the forest and the red and indigo Tin Tower behind. Large bay windows were set in the wast-facing wall, giving a wide view of the sunset over the trees of the National Park and Route 38; contrasted by the ruin, the Burnt Tower, to the right. In life, Zeke's mother maintained a small garden on the southern side of the house, ensuring day-long sunlight.

Standing before the house, Zeke's heart sank. His earliest and faintest memories were of the vibrant blue paint – now faded, by sun and elements, to a depressing, desaturated slate gray.

The male sucked in a deep breath, let it out in a long sigh, and stepped up to the door. Blaziken wondered at the parentage of this man who could jump from jovial to serious. From what he could see, the building was structurally sound, but the whole property had an air of dereliction. The paint was faded and cracked, the grass was neatly kept, yet the skeletons of a garden lined the wall along the south-west corner and the remains of support frames stood eerily like weathered scarecrows.

On the porch, Zeke stood staring at the door, heart beating from uncertainty, unsure as to knock like a guest or simply stride in like the young man he was finally come home.

Sucking in a deep breath and expelling it, Zeke reached for the knocker and rapped three times. In a matter of moments the door swung open, revealing an older man who wore a storm cloud gray suit, sharply cut and tailored to fit, and accentuate , his rail-thin form.

"May I help you?" he asked with a cool drawl.

"Hey, Carleighl," Zeke answered, attempting a small smile. "I'm back."

The older man's eyebrows shot skyward. "Zachary?"

Inside, the house appeared to be cleaned regularly, yet surprisingly spartan. To many, though, it seemed almost cell-like. Only a few chairs adorned the room; not even pictures hung from walls or sat on mantels.

Carleighl led them to a sitting room and invited them to sit. Blaziken, unsure of what to do with himself, chose to sit on a hardwood chair next to a wall.

"Would you like a drink?" Carleighl asked.

"No thanks, not staying long."

Nodding, the thin man sat down at a low coffee table, Zeke taking the chair opposite.

"You should have called ahead," Carleighl said coolly.

Zeke propped his feet up on his duffel, glad to be off of them.

"Yea, well, the General never was good at conversation. Just figured I'd swing by to say hello."

Blaziken noticed the gray-clad man fidget slightly at the mention of the "General" person.

"So where is he, anyway? He was more prompt than this when I was younger."

"Where do you intend of staying, if you planed your visit so short?" Carleighl asked, rubbing his fingers together slightly.

Zeke blinked, catching on that the thin sergeant was avoiding his question.

"At a motel, most likely," he said casually, shifting his feet back to the floor. "Now, are you going to answer my question? Where is the old man?"

Carleighl sucked in a shaky breath. "You really should have called," he said quietly.

Zeke's eyes narrowed. "Where is he, sergeant?" His voice dropped in temperature.

Blaziken sprouted bumps under his feathers, anticipating the cold fury this human could summon.

Carleighl swallowed hard under Zeke's harsh gaze.

"Your father," Carleighl said, deflating into his chair, "Your father passed away last autumn, Zachary." Depression and mourning seeped from him, as if he death were recent.

Zeke's eyes widened in surprise. His father had seemed indomitable; at least that was how others had described him. The lack of emotion over the death of his father didn't bother him. What did bother Zeke was why no one had deemed it necessary to inform him about it.

"Why wasn't I told, Carleighl?" Zeke asked, his voice even.

The sergeant rubbed his fingers again. "Your father wouldn't have want-"

A right hook contacted Carleighl's jaw, his head jerked to the side from it. Zeke stood, gripping Carleighl's uniform collar, dragging him over the low table.

"Why. Was I. Not. Informed?" Zeke's words were clear, his voice low. Anger and malice dripped from each word.

Carleighl's voice was higher than it had been, his cheek red and already showing signs of swelling.

"Major General Warwither left you out of his will."

Zeke's eyes widened.

"All of the Major General's possessions were either donated or willed to certain associates. Even the house and land was given to the military." Carleighl's voice quivered as he watched the rage build within the young militant.

Suddenly Zeke released Carleighl, the slight sergeant falling onto the table. Zeke picked up his duffel bag and turned, heading to the hall.

"We're leaving."

Blaziken assumed he was just given an order and moved into step swiftly. Down the hall, almost to the door, Carleighl staggered from the sitting room.

"Where – What – H-he was your fa-"

"NO!" Zeke roared, turning around, leveling his anger at Carleighl. "No father does what he did! A real father would never cart their child away, leave them scared and alone and refuse to communicate! That bastard doesn't deserve the title of "father"!"

As Zeke unleashed his rage, Blaziken quietly continued to the front door, ready to open it and be out of range, knowing what damage the human could do when angry. He rubbed his sternum, thinking of how easy he had been beaten, thinking how much damage the male could do if he ever let go of his control.

Thinking of how easy Zeke could kill.

Carleighl leaned against the wall. "What are you going to do?" he asked, voice wavering.

Zeke breathed deeply, reigning his anger in.

"I'm divorcing from him," he replied.

Carleighl gaped.

"I am no longer a part of his family. The name of Warwither is going to die with him," Zeke declared, spite and hatred a near-tangible aura.

With that Zeke spun on his heel and marched through the door, Blaziken having opened it after Zeke's declaration, slamming it behind him.

Obediently Blaziken followed three paces behind Zeke and thought about his situation. He'd be engrossed in a fight by now. Or waiting for one. "Earn your daily bread on a daily basis." That was what his masters had always told their charges. It felt queer to not be waiting on a fight. To go about at leisure. To eat food that tasted real, he added as an afterthought. Admittedly, not having his schedule made him addlepated, but being free, truly free; it was worth it. And with that freedom he could go about a schedule of his own design.

He must have been hungry, for his mind wandered back to the bland poke-chow they used to feed the pokemon. Supposedly it was made to deliver all the nutrients the pokemon needed – and a few of them liked it well enough – but Blaziken was too familiar with how little their "masters" cared for them.

Suddenly, Zeke turned left around a corner, then left again, entering a building that had tinny music playing within.

Blaziken followed Zeke in to find a restaurant. The facility was decked in a style Blaziken was unfamiliar with, but the dim reds blues and golds blended together to create a soothing flow.

Unfortunately it fell on blind eyes with Zeke. The were quickly escorted by a man in a sea-green robe to a table along the right wall and handed menus. After a few minutes a young man walked up to their table.

"Hello," the waiter said with a smile. "Are you re– "

"Two burgers, done. Fries. Water," Zeke interrupted, his voice rough with anger.

The waiter quietly collected the menus and walked away.

Blaziken sat with his back to the wall, watching Zeke from the corner of his eye. The human sat rigidly in his seat, his eyes focused on nothing; rage burned in his eyes, his body a tense coil ready to spring.

Fifteen minutes passed and the waiter returned with their orders. Blaziken inspected the food, once again curious at the unfamiliar meal; and once more he watched Zeke, who had immediately attacked his burger, taking large bites and chewing each mouthful aggressively.

Hesitantly, Blaziken picked up his burger and took and experimental bite. Again, Blaziken was pleasantly surprised with the blend of flavors and textures and set to ravaging his meal, consuming all his food even quicker than Zeke's aggressive consumption.

Not used to such a messy food, Blaziken found himself preening, rubbing the sauces off his beak and licking them off his arm feathers.

Soon after, Zeke finished; he paid and they left, turning right and heading west.

As they walked past the Ecruteak gym, Zeke and Blaziken heard the sounds of battle. Looking toward the noise, they saw two pokemon, a kadabra facing off against a growlithe. Trainers shouted commands. Spectators cheered. Zeke moved on. Blaziken watched long enough to see the kadabra engage in a grapple and throw the canid.

Man and pokemon checked in to a motel room on the far west side of town, renting a two-bedded room for two nights. Zeke was calmer when he explained they would check out places to go tomorrow and leave early the day after. Despite it only being 2 in the afternoon, Zeke dropped his duffel beside one of the beds, flopped down on the lumpy mattress and went to sleep. Blaziken was unsure if he just slept on command or if he lay there thinking, but he himself was still wide awake and filled with energy.

After a moment, Blaziken decided to go outside and exercise. Two days of laziness and well-eating behind him, Blaziken could not push down that odd feeling that had begun his first night with this formidable human. Starting with warm-up exercises, Blaziken ran around the motel property's perimeter, moved on to lifting rocks of various weights and ended with releasing his flame in controlled bursts so as not to overheat and, in turn, cook his insides. Throughout his workout passerby, human and pokemon alike stared at him oddly and some with more than a bit of trepidation. When he was finished, Blaziken returned to their room and headed for the small bathroom to wash the grime out from under his short, coarse feathers.

Thoroughly cleaned, Blaziken gently stoked his flame, heating the water under his feathers to evaporation to prevent it from molding.

Sufficiently exorcised and respectfully cleaned, Blaziken settled down for the night.

Zeke woke at dawn. Still angry, he went out and ran laps up and down the street, returning after an hour. Blaziken had awoke as he entered.

"After I clean up we'll grab some breakfast," Zeke said, Making his way to the bathroom.

Breakfast turned out to be a protein-heavy wrap and a bottle of juice made from berries and apricorns with a high concentration of sugar.

Blaziken found himself rather bored while the human checked maps and schedules, wondering if he was going to keep his word and help him get stronger. Whether or not it would be smarter to part company with this directionless human.

It had reached midday when Zeke finished. Keeping his acquaintances he met in school and the small list of appointments and obligations in mind, Zeke laid out the best route to get them done with the least amount of traveling.

On their way to and early lunch, Zeke and Blaziken were discussing potential workout routines, when they heard a loud CRACK! and a shouting voice. Turning a corner, they stumbled upon a small crowd standing by while a young boy repeatedly hit the sprawling form of a kadabra.

Zeke watched, the shock of the scene before him freezing him to the spot. Blaziken, familiar with owners abusing their pokemon, felt the old, dark hatred rise.

It was quickly quashed by an intense surge of animosity. Zeke began walking toward the scene of abuse. As he reached the outer edge of the crowd the boy reached into his pocket, pulling something out. Shifting the horse whip, he brought his hands together and, with some effort, pulled them apart and opened them. Something sparkled as it fell. The prostrate kadabra stopped moving, its gaze focused on the spot at the boy's feet. It was a spoon.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

The crowd and the boy turned as Zeke descended upon them. Closing on the boy and kadabra, Zeke noticed the scar on its head and eroded state of its body armor and tail, determining they were caused by long-term exposure to some type of acid.

"What the hell," Zeke repeated, "are you doing?"

The boy leered at Zeke, a poisonous smile spread across his young face.

"What's it look like? I'm disciplining my pokemon."

Zeke's face transformed, his scar twisting his rage-filled face into a horrible visage of hatred. Grabbing the front of the child's shirt, Zeke tore the horse whip from his small hand.

"What gives you the right..." Zeke's voice was small and wavering.

The condescending look spread over the boy's face again. Just as he was about to reply, Zeke screamed, "How would you like being beaten with a whip?! How'd you like to be bathed in acid, huh?!"

Releasing the child's shirt, Zeke cocked back his arm and, fueled by anger, brought down the whip, striking the boy.

"How do you like it?!" Zeke growled, raising the whip back and bringing it down on the kid once more. "How do you fucking like it?!"

Again Zeke raised the riding crop, and again he brought it down, beating the young boy. Repeatedly lashing and repeatedly shouting; Zeke vented all his pent-up rage.

Lying prone on the ground, the boy groaned, bruises and welts beginning to form; tears streaming down his face. Zeke breathed raggedly, as if he had exhausted all his energy.

Blaziken's eyes were wide, surprised at the anger inside this male human and the lengths his violent behavior could go.

Just then, Blaziken came upon a realization: This human – this angry, volatile, dangerous human – was now his trainer. He, a discarded, mutated, thrown away pokemon had been taken in by a human; well-trained and having no qualms about how he used that training. The very thought that he could never gauge how far he could go chilled Blaziken to the bone.

Anger played out, Zeke dropped the whip and picked up the broken spoon. Snapping his fingers at Blaziken, Zeke bent to inspect the kadabra still on the ground. As Blaziken approached, the boy shifted, raising his head to glare at Zeke.

"How dare you..." he said weakly. "Have you any idea who I am?"

Zeke stood. Blaziken, having knelt down with him looked up, confusion in his eyes.

Coldly Zeke replied, "What makes you think I care?"

"I'll have you ripped limb from limb!" the child growled. "My family- HRRG!" The boy grunted, Zeke's foot connected swiftly, kicking the boy in the solar plexus hard and lifting him from the ground, sending him flying four feet away and rolling another three.

Returning to the stunned kadabra, Zeke and Blaziken gingerly helped it up, giving their shoulders for support as they walked away from the scene. Due to his height, Blaziken was forced to stoop in order to get the kadabra's arm around his neck.

_You should not have done that. Do you not realize the danger of what you just did?_ a male voice spoke out.

Zeke glanced at the kadabra. "So, you can talk," he said, mildly interested.

_Of course. My master – the boy – would have had it no other way._

'What are our plans now?' asked a low, gravelly voice.

Zeke stopped in his tracks and stared over the kadabra's head at the beaked countenance of his companion. Abruptly, Zeke burst into body-shaking laughter. Blaziken's short feathers bristled in irritation.

'What's so funny?' he asked aggressively.

Through fits of laughter, Zeke replied, "I never would have expected such a deep, resonous voice to come from a slender, wiry body."

Giving him a bitter look, Blaziken growled and started walking again, forcing the kadabra and Zeke to move along. Once his laughing fit was finished, Zeke continued talking with the kadabra.

"Being a part of a high-ranking household, you ought to have a name."

_Of course,_ he replied. _I am called Gellerman._

"Hm... Mind if I call you Geller?"

_Uh... Sure._

Something dawned on Zeke then, and he asked over Geller's head, "Hey, do you have a name?"

Glancing to his right, Blaziken gave a resigned sigh. 'No,' he replied. 'I was never given a name.'

"Hm... I'll have to think of something..." he said thoughtfully.

Huffing, Blaziken asked again, 'Well? What is the plan now? With that show of yours, we can't exactly wait until tomorrow to leave.'

"We need to swing back at the motel to grab my stuff. Then we'll head to Olivine to catch the ferry to Vermilion."

Geller shifted uncomfortably, making him wince from the pain.

"As soon as we get you healed you're free to go wherever you want."

The kadabra's solemn attitude was evidenced in his mental voice. _I have no where else to go._

Patting his arm, Zeke replied, "You're more than welcome to join us."

Surprised at the man's kindness, Geller looked up at the Blaziken to his left to see a faint smile and reassuring nod.

**END**


	4. Mission 2 2

Mission 2.2

It took the trio only moments to retrieve Zeke's duffel, though they stayed to look over Gellerman's wounds and apply what scant first-aid they could. Blaziken, suspicious as ever, kept his eyes moving, taking note of every shadow, movement and noise. Zeke allowed the brawler to take point, helping Gellerman who, though able to walk mostly on his own, was still a little weak and off-balance.

As they reached the border-gate a haggard and travel-worn trainer exited and spotted them, most notably the wounded kadabra.

"Are you guys alright?" the boy asked.

Zeke chuckled, eying the teen's own disheveled state. "I made a bit of a scene so I'm not welcome here anymore," he stated, sad amusement in his voice.

The teen swung his backpack off. "I'm heading in to rest and restock. All I got left is this," he reached into a pouch and pulled out an orange aerosol bottle out. "My first stop's the center, so you can have this," he said, handing Zeke the small bottle. "Just try taking it easy," he continued.

Zeke thanked him with a smile and a handshake, and the teen, putting his pack back on, continued on his way.

Dropping his duffel to the ground, Zeke pulled out his small first-aid kit and retrieved a sterile syringe.

"I know this isn't conventional," Zeke told Gellerman as he worked the needle into the elastic side of the bottle, "but the spray won't help with your internal wounds and having you drink it wouldn't get the job done well enough."

Patting Gellerman's pauldron, he said, "Hope you don't mind needles."

_I do not mind them, no,_ the kadabra ceded, _but I am not fond of-_ "NGH!" Gellerman grunted audibly as Zeke jabbed the syringe's needle into the pokemon's upper arm and injected the medicine.

"Sorry," Zeke said. "It's not much, but it'll help. At least until we can get you fully healed."

The kadabra rubbed his arm and rolled his shoulder.

_I wish to warn you ahead of time,_ Gellerman replied, _these scars are permanent. My pauldrons and breastplate cannot be repaired and my tail will not grow back._

Zeke's face tightened and lips pinched together. Those weren't the only scars Gellerman wore. The three bolts on his lower body were completely burned off, leaving three ragged scars in their place; and the star on his forehead had not been left unmolested, either, having an inverted star seared into his flesh.

Gellerman watched the maelstrom of emotions Zeke experienced as he looked over his new companion. Finally Zeke moved back to his duffel, packed away his med kit and picked up his bag.

"We better get moving. I want us to get as far as we can before nightfall."

Without another word Zeke continued on to the border-gate. Gellerman moved to follow and found the medicine had already done wonders for his internal pains, though it wasn't enough to fully heal the fractures in his ribs, the pain was within tolerable levels.

Before he could get far, Blaziken tapped his left pauldron and directed a question at him.

_Yes, the medicine has helped with the pain. I should be able to continue on fairly well. Do you mind if I inquire about our trainer?_

Blaziken sucked in a deep breath and exhaled sharply. A serious tone to his thoughts, he replied, 'You'll find that he is emotionally unstable, hates many things about his own kind, and if a situation unsettles him far enough he will attack anyone he wants, regardless of the consequences.'

The kadabra nodded his head in understanding. _I can see much darkness on his mind._

Zeke set a steady pace and kept to himself as much as possible. Blaziken quickly resumed his point position and Gellerman kept to three paces behind Zeke, as he had been trained. Despite leaving Ecruteak after mid-day the trio made good time, reaching the Miltank Farm soon past dusk. Zeke was thankful the sky stayed clear; and was able to make a deal with the family that owned the farm.

_They are a generous family,_ Gellerman remarked as they made ready for bed.

"Many farming families are fair to travelers willing to work," Zeke replied, stretching out on a cot the family lent him. Gellerman used a similar, yet wider, one beside him.

Once again Blaziken declines a bed, opting the corner furthest from the door.

_You do not need to sleep as though you are always on watch._

Whatever Blaziken's reply, if he even gave one, Gellerman lay down on the cot and tried to sleep.

Zeke stayed awake a while more; thinking his plans over, what needed done, and what he had to do to see his vision through to the end.

Work started early, just like with the military. Breakfast was eaten in a timely manner and duties were quickly doled out: Blaziken set to the task of scouring the property for pests and driving them off; Zeke accompanied the head of the family around to fix what needed repaired and to help with other odd jobs that arose; Gellerman remained at the house, helping the farmer's wife with household chores. The only incident arising involved a small group of diglett and Blaziken's liberal use of fire.

Lunch came swiftly. Taking advantage of the good weather, the group decided to have a small barbecue. As they set up the grill and gathered food and utensils, Blaziken found himself drawn to a ragged bag that the farmer had set by the grill. Catching himself multiple times being lured in by an intoxicating scent, Blaziken did his best to keep his wits. It never lasted long. Infuriated by his weakness, Blaziken strode over to the bag, knelt beside it and pulled open its top. What he found were black lumps ranging in size from a small fist to the length of his forearm. He grabbed a small one and inspected it. Why did these plain, black clumps hold such sway over him?

Behind him the farmer laughed heartily, snapping him out of his musings.

"Looks like yer blaziken found mah 'coal," he said to Zeke, who was helping carry the meat.

Blaziken shoved the piece of charcoal angrily back in to the bag.

"It's alright, big guy," the farmer said, Blaziken turning to walk away. "Not a fire-type can't resist the scent o' 'coal. Matter o' fact, some b'lieve it boosts fire moves."

This caught Blaziken's attention.

"Not sure how it's s'posed tah work, though," he finished, irritating Blaziken even more.

Soon after lunch the three left the Miltank Farm.

"So, tell me, what do you think?" Zeke asked Blaziken after telling him his idea.

Understandably Blaziken was pissed. Not only for the embarrassing memory it brought up... No, it was exactly because of that embarrassing moment that Blaziken was angered.

"Aw, come on," Zeke called. "It's not that bad!" Zeke and Gellerman hurried to catch up to the raging pokemon.

"Besides, it's not even spelled the same."

_I think it is the inspiration you have drawn it from that has him so infuriated,_ Gellerman remarked from Zeke's left.

"I realize that," he replied, "but I can't just call him "Blaziken," it feels too..." Zeke fought to find the right word.

_Detached? Impersonal?_ Gellerman offered.

"Exactly!"

Patting Blaziken's arm, Zeke proclaimed, "I am pleased to announce you as my first partner, Cole!"

With a frustrated growl, Blaziken – now Cole – turned on Zeke, swinging a right hook at the man's head.

Zeke dodged easily. Taking more than a little amusement out of his pokemon's frustration, Zeke ran away, hopping ledges, making sharp turns and evading the ill-tempered pokemon around trees and rocks, making the game of chase a way to vent his anger. Zeke laughed the whole time, even when Cole finally caught up and grappled him to the ground.

Anger played out, Cole stared at the still laughing human, huffed and stood.

Gellerman, having to jog to catch up, extended a hand to Zeke – who took it – and helped the human to his feet. Zeke brushed off the dirt and plant debris, picked up his duffel, which he had carried the entire run, and looked up at the blaziken with a cheery smile. Cole grumbled and continued walking south, to Olivine.

Zeke, Cole and Gellerman reached Olivine as the setting sun lit the sea ablaze. Sunset gold shimmered amongst the dark blue and silver waves. Sucking in a deep breath, Zeke could taste the salty tang that blew in off the water.

"All right," he said aloud, "lets get moving so we can check the ferry schedule and grab a bite to eat."

It being so close to dusk the streets were almost empty. Errand-runners, couples and small groups of casual partiers meandered in and out of restaurants and bars.

The ferry was closed, a sign on the door stated they opened at eight in the morning and that the first ferry would leave at nine.

"Well," Zeke said with a smile, "there's our deadline. Lets grab some food and fins a place to crash."

Cole cocked his head in confusion, which Gellerman caught and relayed images of beds, cots and places linked to sleeping. The pokemon blinked, slowly shook his head and walked on ahead, his long strides carrying him quickly away from Gellerman and past Zeke.

With their combined noses the group sniffed out an open restaurant. It was set on the waterfront, giving an extended view of the beach. Far into the distance the Whirl Islands could be seen, cloaked in a haze from the sunlight striking through air-strewn water.

The restaurant was fairly quiet, being so close to closing there were only a handful of tables occupied. Having not eaten many of the dishes listed on the menu, Zeke questioned their waitress about most of the sea-themed dishes. She took it well and helped them as best she could. Once settled on their meals, Zeke placed their orders and watched the waitress walk back to the kitchen, pausing momentarily to stifle a yawn.

Their food arrived quickly, Zeke and Cole eating fish steaks, Gellerman some chowder that smelled heavily of herbs and cheese. In usual fashion, Zeke and Cole tucked in, shoveling food down their gullets as if starved. Almost in parody, Gellerman ate his chowder in the dignified manner befitting someone raised in the home of modern nobility.

With the speed that they ate, Zeke and Cole's plates were cleaned in a matter of minutes. Even though he retained his dignity and dined with manner intact, Gellerman, too, finished eating soon after the others.

"I wonder when she'll swing back," Zeke commented as he stretched and rubbed his belly.

_We did finish our food with... embarrassing haste,_ Gellerman replied.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Zeke remarked. "We were hungry."

After waiting another five minutes Zeke shifted his duffel; pulling a notepad and pen from a side pouch, he wrote something down, tore the page out, then returned the pad and pen to their pouch.

He retrieved the small roll of bills from his pocket and asked, "Hey, Geller, you remember the prices?"

Gellerman thought a moment. _2341.46 for your steaks and 1601.99 for my soup._

Zeke stared at his hand and added them up, twitching his fingers to help keep track.

_It is 6284.91,_ Gellerman said, his "voice" colored to convey humor.

Brows furrowed, Zeke made a noise in his throat, a growl of frustration. Bending down, he pulled the pen back out, made another note on the page in his hand, then counted two bills from the roll and set both the money and note on the table.

Pocketing the roll, Zeke picked up his duffel. "Alright, lets head out."

Gellerman blinked. _But- Should we not wait for the waitress to return?_

"Like you said, we finished eating quicker than normal people would," Zeke replied, boredom in his voice and posture. "I left enough to cover our bill. Lets just go." Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the exit.

Cole was quick to follow; Gellerman nervously trailing after.

Several minutes passed when their waitress walked over to the table to check on them. To find the booth empty, food gone, scared the woman until she saw a small piece of paper with money folded under it. She picked up the paper and bills and read Zeke's note.

We finished a little quick

Money is on the table

Sorry but I have no small change

With a raised brow she looked at the bills in her hand to find two 5000 notes. Unsure what to do, the waitress ran to her manager.

Zeke, Cole and Gellerman hustled away from the restaurant, cutting across the street, diving in and out of alleys and moving to the end of a block, only to turn around and head back the opposite direction on the other side. They moved as if trying to evade persuers.

An unknown amount of time passed. Zeke called them to halt.

"I think I've gotten us sufficiently lost," he remarked between breaths.

_I do not think that was wise,_ Gellerman said, breathing a little heavier than either Zeke or Cole. _They could have given you change. There is no telling what ramifications-_

"It was only a couple thousand extra."

_It was four thousand, seven hundred-_

"It'll probably be taken as a donation," Zeke interrupted, growing irritated with the kadabra's insistent arguing.

With a frustrated sigh Zeke looked around at the darkened shops and businesses.

"What's the range of your telepathy?" he asked, his tone clear that the issue was settled and finished.

_Approximately three meters, I believe,_ Gellerman replied, his thoughts sounding deflated.

"You believe?" Zeke questioned, used to the pokemon speaking with precision.

_As of yet, I have never needed to expand my abilities beyond that point,_ the thoughts came apologetically. _Coupled with my master – previous master – valuing physical technique above all, my psychic powers held little appeal to him beyond their social uses._

Zeke sighed, rubbing his eyes and nasal bone.

"Well, I guess it'll start now."

Placing his hands on the kadabra's shoulders, Zeke looked into his eyes. "Focus on my mind. One me alone."

Gellerman closed his eyes.

_I have you._

"Now stay focused," Zeke said softly, lifting his hands. "Block out everything but me."  
>The human's mind felt like a soft glow on the edge of Gellerman's mind<p>

_"Can you still hear me?"_ Zeke inquired, directing the question through the mental link.

_Yes,_ Gellerman replied. _The connection remains strong._

Zeke responded with a small chuckle, _"Open your eyes and find me."_

Brows furrowed, Gellerman opened his eyes and turned to face where Zeke's mental patterns were coming from.

And noticed the young man had crossed the street and walked to the end of the block.

Gellerman gaped as Zeke jogged back to the pokemon, a wide ear-to-ear grin on his face.

"See. You have it in you," Zeke said.

'Are we actually going to look for a place to sleep or stay on the road all night?' Cole growled.

"We will, we will," Zeke replied, voice soft to placate his moody companion. "Now, Geller," Zeke turned back to the short pokemon. "You'll need to focus on both of us. Ah-ah!" Gellerman's mouth opened, as if to verbally protest. "You just proved your power was greater than you thought; we're just going to push it even more. Exactly like working your body, the mind needs to work out, too."

Patting Gellerman on the shoulder, Zeke grabbed Cole's forearm and pulled him to his left, so bother were standing before the fox-faced pokemon.

"Just do like I said. Focus on us alone. Block everything else out. Sit on my duffel if you think sitting will help." Zeke kept his voice as low and soft as he could.

Gellerman exhaled sharply. He took Zeke's offer and sat on the duffel bag, crossing his legs in front of him.

He sunk within himself, the cool sea breeze blew untouched, the salty tang unsmelt. With his mind Gellerman reached out and touched Zeke's and Cole's. Once more, Zeke's consciousness was a soft, warm glow at the edge of his mind. But Cole's was different. The Fire-type burned, a sharp torch that burned, dwarfing Zeke's glow, reducing it to that of a match beside a bonfire.

_I have you both,_ Gellerman informed them.

_"Okay,"_ Zeke replied. _"Cole and I are going to hunt for a motel. Whoever finds it first will notify you and you must notify the other."_

_Understood._

Cole grunted his acknowledgment.

Zeke and Cole walked together to the end of the street, splitting up at the intersection; Cole walking quickly, taking whatever turn that struck him. Zeke moved more slowly, patient and somewhat hopeful a citizen of Olivine out late might cross his path.

Their search sent them over dozens of city blocks. Approaching three hours, Cole had been walking through a more seedy part of Olivine when he turned a corner and spotted a large lot with a neon sign flashing "Motel" in big, pink letters.

'I found a motel,' he messaged Gellerman.

No response.

'Gellerman!' Cole's thought's urged; suspicion rising, habit pushed him to find a defendable position against unknown foes.

Gellerman, sitting on Zeke's duffel, kept track of Zeke and Cole as best he could; the human's glow remained steady, moving only ever so slightly, whereas the blaziken's flame never stopped moving. To the kadabra it seemed Cole was pacing the same path on the edge of his mind over and over again. From what he hand learned with Zeke's first attempt, Gellerman could not gauge distance at all. Factoring that in, Gellerman could only assume Cole was back tracking and zigzagging through the streets in a purely chaotic manner, relying on whim of instinct and luck.

Then, all of a sudden, Cole's flame flickered and was gone; Gellerman now unable to keep track of the pokemon's position.

Immediately concerned, Gellerman reached out to Zeke.

_I can no longer sense Cole._

Zeke's reply was faint, as if spoken over a great distance.

_"He's probably gone outside your range,"_ he said, seemingly unconcerned.

_What should we do?_ he asked in earnest.

Before Zeke could reply a small, fiery explosion popped and lit up the sky.

_"Signal flare,"_ Zeke said curtly. _"Head for it. I'll meet you en route."_

Without question, Gellerman stood, scooped up Zeke's bag and jogged off toward the explosions, which continued to fly up at semi-regular intervals.

Ten minutes of running, Gellerman turned a corner, spotting Zeke making his way up the street. Gellerman had not thought of keeping his telepathic link with the human open and could not feel Zeke's mind. Taking a logical step Gellerman guessed he would need to reset the link slowly as he did before. Once met up, Zeke slowed his pace to stay with Gellerman.

As they drew near, both realized they were still two or three streets west of Cole's position. Slowing to manage the corner, Zeke saw Gellerman in his peripheral, whom had fallen behind, having trouble drawing his breath. Regardless of the physical exercise his previous trainer subjected him to, the kadabra was still ill-suited for prolonged physical strain.

Given the amount of time they had searched, it took Zeke and Gellerman a little more than fifteen more minutes to reach Cole's approximate location. The closer they got the harder it was to see Cole's flares; at worst they relied on only the _pop_ the fire balls made or the faint glow they cast across the sky.

Running along the final block, Zeke saw the motel first. Standing at the corner, chest heaving for air, Zeke swiveled his head, looking up and down the street. Hearing a _phwoosh_ to his right, Zeke took off again, reaching an alley halfway down the block, fire light flaring briefly before shooting skyward.

At some point Gellerman started falling behind. He did not notice until he was watching Zeke's back a meter ahead of him. Then two meters. Zeke was steadily pulling away. Gellerman started seeing purple explosions in his field of vision. He was not getting enough oxygen. Slowing down even more, he began to wonder how the other Psychic-types managed moving about. Probably propelling themselves around with their minds. Zeke had made a left turn, then a right at the next street, Gellerman almost missed seeing it, he was lagging so far behind.

Reaching the corner, Gellerman used lamp post to aid his turn and propel himself along. Zeke was already at the end of the street and no longer running; his head turning left and right. He then dashed right moments before another flare popped and lit up the night.

Gellerman pondered whether he would be beside the human now if he had not been carrying the man's duffel bag.

He reached the corner four minutes behind Zeke; soon enough to see Cole step out of the alley in which he had taken a defensive position. Halfway to his companions Gellerman stopped and dropped the duffel, his breath coming in shallow, wheezy gasps. He was too exhausted to form his thoughts into conversation. Luckily Cole and Zeke were already heading back for him, concern on Zeke's face and Cole – well, what little time they had spent in each others company, he was still hard to read, even if he wore his emotions on his sleeves.

Now that they had found a place to sleep, the trio took the last few meters slowly. Zeke helped Gellerman along, who was having trouble catching his breath; Zeke's duffel had been passed over to Cole who carried it without comment. All three were tired and were glad there was a vacancy, though it had just one queen-sized bed.

As the night clerk handed over the key, Zeke asked, "You wouldn't happen to do wake up calls would you?"

The only answer from the thin clerk was a dirty look on his gaunt face.

Upon entering the room, Cole dropped the duffel on the floor next to the bed. Zeke eased Gellerman on to the bed, the lumpy mattress a welcome pleasure, the lack of legitimate comfortability not-withstanding. Cole grabbed the cushion from the ratty chair, tossed it into a corner and made himself comfortable on the dull calico carpet. Zeke roughly booted his bag under the bed and flopped down on the queen beside Gellerman.

"Hope you don't mind sharing, Geller, but I don't think I'm tired enough that the chair or floor would accommodate me."

_I do not mind,_ Gellerman's thoughts rolled like a lazy stream.

"Seeing how I don't have an alarm, we need to keep and eye on that analogue on the wall. We gotta leave at eight."

It only gave them five hour's sleep, but as soon as they got on the ship they could sleep all they wanted.

**END**


	5. Mission 2 3

Pokemon Mutation: Ch 05

Mission 2.3

It's been nearly 2 years since I've worked on this fanfic... I'm sorry. =

In the last chapter Zeke and his team of two, Cole and Gellerman, arrived at Olivine and finally tracked down a motel to rest at until they can catch the next ferry to Vermilion in Kanto.

Emmecks partially read his checklist. With as long as he had worked at the Olivine Ferry, the list was committed to memory long ago. But the muscle memory of holding the clip board still held, and so he carried it, purely out of habit. The last thing to be done was lock off the pier and wave the deck hands away.

Approaching the large double doors, Emmecks looked through the building; past the few ambling people looking at souvenirs, the even fewer customers checking up of other ferries' arrival and departure dates, Out the large front windows lay the sprawling main road, branching left to the beach and right to the famed Olivine Lighthouse. Twisting away from the harbor, the road led to the edifice, Olivine Gym, built simply in reverence to the Steel types used there, the metal treated to prevent rusting caused by the salt-laden breeze. Further on past the gym, the road to Route 39.

Pulling the door closed, Emmecks spotted something moving down the main street. Hesitating, he squinted, cursed his failing eyesight and put on his glasses. With magnified vision, Emmecks just made out three human shapes, running fast down the shallow hill. Glancing at his watch, he stood amazed at the speed with which the three ran.

Becoming more defined as they drew nearer, the red person became a pokemon, though none he'd ever seen before. Trailing far behind the other two, a wide figure with peculiar shapes on its top.

Seconds ticked by, the three still running, growing closer and closer. It finally dawned on Emmecks they might be heading for the docks, wanting to catch the next ferry.

The ferry Emmecks himself was just sending off.

Eyes wide Emmecks pointed across the building and shouted, "Open those doors!"  
>This early in the morning the wind blew in cold from the north; the sound of the sea lapping against the boats and the caw of wingulls in the sky.<p>

It took a moment for the order to sink in, but one look out the window got people moving.

Further and further, the squat one fell behind, the one in the middle got closer and closer to the red one, the red one apparently trying to slow down.

He was moving too fast. Zeke swung his duffle bag off his shoulder and held it to his chest. The change from asphalt to linoleum compromised his footing, feet shooting out from under him. Zeke landed on his duffle, as planned, but he had not planned 210 pounds of pokemon crashing on top of him. Cole and Zeke slid across the tiles, stopping when they hit a row bolted down seats.

Gellerman had not picked up the kind of speed Zeke and Cole had, enabling him to keep his footing on the linoleum. Though he did collapse into one of the seats, his breathing fast and ragged.

Emmecks approached the three, a boy and two pokemon. All three were breathing heavily. The boy – no, a young man – untangled himself from the red pokemon, a kind Emmecks had never seen.

Between gasping breaths the young man asked, "The boat to Vermilion still here?"

The voyage lasted a full two weeks, choppy waters causing problems for sea-going vessels, even those of high quality like the S.S. Aqua. Zeke spent two years on the sea, so he laughed and tended to Cole and Geller, both blanching as soon as the ship hit open ocean. Gellerman attempted to maintain his composure, but it did not last long, as he lost more than his composure either over the side of the ship or into a trash can. Cole was less courtly. Trash can, toilet, over the side, Cole threw up in any receptacle viable for gastric evacuation.

When the S.S. Aqua finally docked, Cole practically jumped off the boat. Gellerman, the house pet that he was, walked off with Zeke, though he became visibly better once he was back on solid ground.

Zeke followed the crowd; the rabble of tourists, sailors and general populous grew and melded and washed over Zeke in a white noise.

They found the blaziken leaning against a wall of the main harbor building like a drunk, legs shaking slightly.

Zeke gently rubbed Cole's back. "There anything I can get to help you?" he asked. Cole responded with a soft grumble.

_He says something about removing his stomach,_ Gellerman commented.

"Ha! Cracking jokes now?" Zeke laughed. "Come on, let's hit the 'Mart. We'll need to get a few things for the trip."

_You have yet to tell us your plans,_ mentioned Gellerman leadingly.

Zeke smiled, the scar ruining the charming look he was going for. "Don't sweat it, Geller. I'll keep my promise," he rubbed Cole's back again.

Within the hour they were on the road, heading north to Saffron.

Their little group suffered no attack from trainer nor pokemon; two intimidating pokemon and trainer to match warded off most, if not all, company. Due to starting out late in the day, the trio spent the night at the border house. Zeke was glad to see Cole looking better after a good night's sleep on solid ground. Leaving at dawn Zeke, Cole and Gellerman stepped foot into Saffron, the bustle of the city was already in full stride. Being the corporate hub of Kanto, Saffron, and its sister city Celadon – the entertainment hub – never completely stopped.

_What is this?_ Gellerman inquired, concern coloring his thoughts.

Zeke stopped, turned and asked "What's what?"

_I feel a pressure on my mind,_ the kadabra replied, rubbing the two fingers of one hand against his forehead.

"It must be the Psychics at the gym," Zeke said frowning.

The kadabra looked at him questioningly.

"They're probably just checking you out," he said. "Don't worry about it." His blasé attitude about it made Gellerman no less worried.

Midday came and went before they reached their destination. The trio stood before a squat, bland building. There was only a single door and no windows adorning the front; a large sign that read "DOJO" on the door in faded red was the only indication as to what the structure was used for.

"Finally!" Zeke exclaimed as they walked up to the door.

Walking through the door they were assaulted by the smell of leather and sweat, the cries of combat and thud of bodies hitting mats. Zeke dropped his duffle and stood watching both humans and pokemon sparring together, a small grin affixed to his scarred face.

"New recruits eh?" a gruff man in some style of gi strode up to Zeke, Cole and Gellerman.

"You Gym Leader Kiyo?" Zeke inquired.

The gruff man chuckled sadly. "We haven't held a Gym title in years."

"Dojo is just another name for a gym," Zeke responded.

That elicited a loud laugh from the martial artist. "This is true." Waving his hand he said, "Master Kiyo is this way."

Gym Master Kiyo claimed to be in his late sixties, though you could not tell by just looking. A lifetime dedicated to martial arts and physical fitness had kept him muscular, lean and looking no older than forty. He had a square face and large, bushy eyebrows that looked almost cartoonish on him.

"Master Kiyo," the martial artist called as he led Zeke and his pokemon up to the master. "You have guests."

Zeke raised his hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Zeke. We spoke on the phone a couple days ago."

Kiyo smiled – and no matter how much he denied it, it was a charming, grandfatherly smile. "Hello, young man. Is this our new student, then?" he asked, looking Cole up and down.

"That he is," Zeke side-stepped, gently pulling Cole up next to him. "He has some bad habits, but I've got high hopes for him," Zeke said, patting him on the back.

Cole looked from Zeke to Kiyo and back, body tense. The blaziken whirled around, grabbing Zeke's shirt in his two clawed hands. He growled and barked and whatever other noise pokemon make to communicate, his body trembling in a wash of anger; but in his eyes, the look of desperation and shattered hopes.

A heavy hook released Cole's grip and dropped him to the floor.

"Pull yourself together!" Zeke shouted, his voice full of authority, picked up from his drill sergeant at the school.

The gym went quiet, everyone's attention focused on Zeke and Cole. Gellerman stood, too stunned to speak.

Zeke dropped his duffle next to Cole and sat on it.

"I'm not good at teaching," Zeke said softly. "I have no idea where to start to train you."

Cole looked over at Zeke.

"I'm not giving you up and I'm not going to throw you away," Zeke continued. "These guys are masters. They'll teach you how to fight better, fight smarter and better defend yourself." He clapped a hand on Cole's shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "When they're done with you, you'll be able to kick my ass if you really want to."

That made the blaziken's eyes light up a bit.

Patting the pokemon's shoulder, Zeke stood; Cole soon following.

"If you follow Donald he'll get you started," Kiyo said, nodding to the gruff man who had showed them in.

Donald led Cole away, explaining the gym rules and the basics of what he would learn.

Kiyo turned back to Zeke. "You are a good trainer." Zeke just shrugged. "If you don't mine my asking, is he the one who scarred your face?"

That made Zeke grin as he fingered the scar. "Yeah. Heh, it was our first fight." The smile dropped. "He's spent most of his life in underground fighting rings, so have some patience with him."

The master nodded. "We've seen the like before. In both humans and pokemon. I believe he'll fit right in."

_What are we to do while Cole trains?_ Gellerman asked as the left the dojo.

Zeke scoffed. "Don't think you'll be let off so easy." Gellerman cocked his ears as he sent his question. Pointing to a building further down the road, Zeke said, "You're going to the Psychic Gym so you can learn your own strengths."

Gellerman sputtered as he demanded an explanation. Zeke just grinned and continued walking to Saffron's official Gym.

During the next few days Zeke only returned once a day to inquire on his teams' progress; the rest of his time was spent doing odd jobs around Saffron, mostly grunt work in warehouses. Training wasn't cheap, and though the remaining winnings could cover the cost, he still needed to pad his wallet. Three bus tickets to Pewter would be expensive.

Early in the morning on the sixth day Zeke picked Gellerman up from the Psychic Gym, staying long enough to hear and see his progress. Zeke did not mind the scolding Gellerman's instructor gave him about the kadabra's "deplorable training." She was cute despite the gothic makeup.

Once out of the building , Zeke stopped short. "Got something for you." He pulled out a small, silver bracelet. Gellerman could sense a familiar energy radiating from it.

"It's your spoon," Zeke explained. "They couldn't properly remake it without destroying the energy in it, so I had a jeweler work some wonder and turn it into this."

Gellerman said, _I. . . I do not know what to say. _ Tears ran down his fox-like face.

"Then don't say anything and put it on."

Sliding it on his wrist, Gellerman could feel his abilities increase, the energy within the spoon marrying with his own. He felt like a piece of himself had been found; he was more complete than he had in a long time.

By the time they reached the dojo training was in full swing.

"He's shown great potential," Master Terrin, Kiyo's second-in-command, said. "He did have some difficulty at the start."

"Told you he had some bad habits," Zeke said with a chuckle.

Leaving his duffle with Gellerman, Zeke walked over to the wall at the back of the dojo where all the gear was kept. Removing his boots, he donned a pair of shin and foot guards along with padded arm and hand wraps.

Zeke walked to the sparring ring and called out, "Hey, Cole!"

The blaziken looked up from his exercise position on the floor.

"Lets have a match!" Zeke's face was split with a wide grin.

Naturally a small crowd of pokemon and trainers gathered to watch.

Zeke and Cole started out slow, a couple probing punches and kicks. Cole remained fairly guarded, still unsure with fighting the human. Zeke, needing to get a real gauge of Cole's skill, decided to get aggressive. Picking up the pace, Zeke threw every trick he had, just shy of leading the pokemon. He wanted to really test Cole.

Cole kept pace.

The blaziken could tell Zeke was only throwing moves at him; combat for the sake of combat. There was no strategy in the human's attacks other than keeping his movement fluid. He knew this was a test, but Cole wanted to prove he could do more than effectively defend himself. He wanted to prove to Zeke he could win.

Cole knew he needed room to pull off what he wanted to do. Going on the offensive, Cole lashed out with a right hook to Zeke's head, keeping his left tucked to guard his body. Retracting his arm allowed Zeke an opening with his left that Cole deflected by dropping his right arm, using his forearm to sweep Zeke's punch down and away. Zeke's follow-up was a straight jab to Cole's chest, right where the collar bones meet the sternum. Cole managed a cross guard, pushing Zeke back slightly while taking half a step forward himself. Using the foot he had moved forward, Cole pushed off, snapping his other foot forward in a high kick that was meant to hit under the chin. Zeke easily read the motion and retreated another two steps. Foot back on the ground, Cole returned to his guard position, expecting Zeke to lay in again. The human did not disappoint, wading back in with a one-two punch; easily blocked, though Cole took the first hit to the shoulder. Zeke followed with a right jab.

Cole guided the punch, hand on Zeke's wrist. Rotating on the ball of his foot, Cole kicked the leg Zeke held under his center of gravity. Right hand at Zeke's upper arm, Cole pivoted the full 180 degrees, lifted Zeke, the momentum flipping him over, and dropped the human to the mat.

The move knocked the wind out of Zeke, little explosions of light flashing before his eyes.

A collective hush filled the dojo, both trainers and pokemon eagerly waiting.

Cole kept his guard up. The last time he had gotten the upper hand on the human he came back with a vengeance. A strange noise came from Zeke that took the blaziken a long moment to realize was the human trying to laugh and draw breath simultaneously.

Realizing the match was finished the dojo filled with applause. Donald and another trainer helped Zeke to his feet, holding him steady so he would not fall back down. Zeke smiled at Cole while he kept sucking in air; not even his scar could tarnish the look of pride on his smiling face.

There was a bus running from Saffron to Pewter every morning so Zeke, Cole and Gellerman had time to kill before they needed to be at the bus depot. The driver said it would take them about four days to reach Pewter, with stops at key points to let people stretch and get food. Cerulean, the first stop, saw a large influx of tourists, and though Cole and Gellerman watched with fascination as the city rolled past, Zeke slept the whole time. The second stop, at Cerulean's side of Mt. Moon, was an extended break. They would be driving through the passes and would not be able to stop until they reached the Pokemon Center on the other side. Aside from the occasional copse of trees or pond all anyone could see were cliff faces. Everyone was thoroughly bored.

At the Pokemon Center everyone rushed out of the bus, cabin fever nearly made a couple patrons start fighting. Zeke took the opportunity to do some light sparring with Cole to loosen themselves up after the long days of no exercise. Gellerman sat in the grass and worked on his meditative training. After and hour the bus continued on to the last leg of the trip.

Midday was just passing when the bus rolled into the Pewter bus terminal. Being so small it was more a town than a proper city; only a handful of attractions brought in outside coin: the science museum, guided tours of Mt. Moon, and, of course, the Pewter City Gym. None of this mattered to Zeke so he asked a terminal attendant what direction he had to go to reach Pallet Town.

When Gellerman inquired why they were heading to Pallet Town, Zeke simply replied, "It's the first step," and would not elaborate.

Heading south took the trio through the residential district, which amounted to a few apartment complexes and houses further up on the hill side.

A small group of children ran past making all kinds of noise.

"Jeez," Zeke muttered. "Where's the party?"  
><em>The school might have let them out, <em>Gellerman suggested.

Zeke shrugged it off and continued on.

They had not made it more than a block when they heard an inhuman shriek. Hair raised, Zeke stopped and tried to determine where it had come from. A second cry let Zeke zero in, and he took off running, Cole and Gellerman close behind. As they drew nearer to the source other shouting and thudding noises could be heard.

Rounding a corner beside a fenced apartment yard, Zeke stopped dead in his tracks, an icy touch gripped his heart as it pounded away in his chest.

Half a dozen kids, all round age nine, stood throwing rocks at another, smaller child who was curled into a ball, trying to push its way through the fence.

Rage thawed Zeke and sent him over the edge. Cole and Gellerman easily sensed it; fury radiating from Zeke like a storm.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" Zeke roared as he descended upon the children.

The children stood in fear as the scarred man headed for them. He was only ten steps away, but it was long enough for other adults to rush to the kids' rescue. Zeke did not halt or hesitate, instead adjusting his course to stand between the crowd and the assaulted child, his pokemon flanking him on his left and right.

"Do you have any clue what your brats were doing?" Zeke asked, his voice thick with anger.

"You must not be from around here," the woman at the front said.

"Then enlighten me."

The adults glanced at each other. It was one of the children that spoke up.

"It's a FREAK!"

It was Cole who snapped at that. Trembling, his fists ignited and issued a low growl.

Hiding the child in the middle of their group, the woman who spoke first explained. "It wandered in from Mt. Moon. It's an abomination." She spoke those last words with calm conviction.

Curiosity overriding anger – if only slightly – Zeke turned and knelt next to the child. His voice soft, he tried to lure the kid out of its huddled position. What Zeke saw made his breath catch in his throat.

Under the dirt and grime the child, who happened to be a girl, had obvious blue hair and skin, though her skin was a much lighter shade. She had large, pointed ears, not unlike a zubat. Through tears and fear Zeke could only make out her pupils which were slightly pointed at the top and bottom. Later inspection would reveal her irises were the same white as her sclera. As she continued to sob Zeke also seen pointed canines, although he was unsure if it was a part of her mutated physiology or just a natural occurrence in children.

"Hi there," Zeke said, keeping his voice as soft as he could. "It's okay. We're not gonna hurt you." His hands held out, palms up.

She did not budge. She just stared at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Geller."

The kadabra already knew what was needed. Gently he impressed on the little girl's mind that they could be trusted.

Slowly she stood, reached her arms out and wrapped them around Zeke's neck. Zeke supported her with one arm under her and used the other to hug her tight, which brought on another bout of sobbing. Standing up, Zeke leveled his hateful gaze at the small group of people.

"You're fucking lucky," he stated. "The lot of you would be dead right now if not for Gellerman here." Zeke patted the kadabra's ruined pauldron. "We're leaving," he said, addressing Cole.

Fists still ablaze, the blaziken inhaled slowly; his slow exhale easing his anger and dispersing his flame.

Turning their backs on the Pewter residents, Zeke led them to the edge of the city and out to Veridian Forest.

Night came fast in the forest, so Zeke made camp early. The gave the little girl food on the go and each Zeke, Cole and Gellerman carried her throughout the afternoon, knowing her could not match their pace. That night she slept curled up to Zeke and did not wake when he had to get up for watch. Veridian Forest may be designed as a trainer's first challenge for the area, but that did not excuse laziness. Stranger things preferred to lurk in the shadows of the stars.

If Zeke had pushed them, they could have made it to the southern outpost of the forest just after nightfall, but once again Zeke chose caution over expediency. Were they in more familiar territory Zeke would have pushed ahead.

Another half-day passed by the time they reached Veridian. The odd-looking foursome remained for a couple hours, mainly so they could get real food in – especially the kid. The first order of business once they had eaten was to wash the kid. Not finding a bath house forced Zeke too use a bathroom sink. Zeke determined then that sponge baths sucked and that he would never be involved in one ever again. He also made it a point to buy the girl some new clothes. "Clothes" was a generous description for the sac she was wearing as a dress. He did not foresee a need for fancy clothes so he just bought a bundle of underwear, a couple shirts and two pairs of pants. As an afterthought, he asked if she would like a dress. Ecstatic as she was with the other clothes, Zeke took her disinterest as a no. Zeke also had her try on shoes, but she had an uncomfortable look on her face, so they ditched that idea.

After getting one more meal, making Zeke note how little money he had left, the group headed south toward Pallet Town. Seeing the local kids, maybe even trainer-to-be, sliding and jumping down the ledges, Zeke dragged Cole and Gellerman along for a ride. Cole, surly as always, fought every step of the way. As dirty as they got, Zeke and the girl had fun and they cut the travel time to only a few hours.

Pallet Town, from a distance, had a postcard look to it: rolling hills, packed dirt roads and a small bay off to the far south. There was also a short cliff to the east, a large building sat on a shelf half way up the cliff face.

"You wanna know why I dragged you guys here?" Zeke asked, as they made their way into town. Cole stared, not really caring, but still expectant of answers. Gellerman perked up. He had been pestering Zeke for weeks now to no avail.

Zeke pointed to the cliff face. "Professor Oak's lab. The guy's one of the biggest names in pokemon science, if not the whole region."

_What do you plan to request of him?_ Gellerman asked.

Debating whether to say, the little girl came running up with a handful of flowers and interrupted. "Zheek! Zheek!" she said, holding up one to give him. Smiling he accepted. Zeke and Gellerman had started trying to teach the kid to talk, which, in the process of trying to sound out words, showed Zeke her canines were a bit larger than normal. She held up a bright red one and said, "Cole! Cole!" Hesitantly, the blaziken bent down and took the offered flower. She then ran up to Gellerman, brandishing a third flower, this one yellow. "Gayler! Gayler!" He, too, took the flower and using his telekinetic ability, lifted her up and set her on his right pauldron.

Zeke watched the exchange with a smile. Seeing Cole standing there staring at the flower, Zeke lightly punched Cole on the shoulder.

"Hey, lighten up, Cole," he said. "She at least says your name right." Zeke chuckled. The girl was a sweetheart and stayed out trouble.

Her genetics intrigued him. Would she age like a human? Or a pokemon?

The sun was just touching the horizon when Zeke, Cole, Gellerman and the girl reached Oak Lab. The aide who answered the door was a short, bespecaled reed of a man.

"He's in his office, follow me."

Oak's personal office looked like a whirlwind had flown through it; every flat surface was cluttered with paper, manila folders and books of all sizes. If the old man had not looked up and waved them in Zeke would not have seen him, the white of his hair and lab coat blended in with the clutter on his desk.

When Oak had finished typing his full attention turned to Cole.

"Amazing!" Oak said as he inspected the blaziken. "Genetic mutation you say?"

"I believe so," Zeke replied. "The little bit I heard from his last keepers led me to that thought."

"Fascinating."

Oak's inspection irritated Cole. The professor easily picked up on it and only imposed a minute or so longer. It was when Oak focused his attention on Zeke did he realize the blue-tinted girl on his lap.

"By the divines," Oak whispered.

"She's a good kid," Zeke said softly.

"Where-" Oak began.

"Pewter," Zeke interrupted. "Saved her from the locals. Other kids were throwing rocks at her." Zeke patted the girl's head.

"She came out of Mt. Moon." it was as much a statement as a question.

"You know what she is?" Zeke's eyes widened.

Oak nodded, pulled a pipe from his coat pocket at lit it with an official Pokemon League lighter; one of those small "benefits" of being a part of the politics.

"A group of scientists allied with Team Rocket worked on hybridizing human genes with a pokemon's," Oak took a couple puffs and refilled the pipe. "They got the idea from one of Bill's pet projects that fubarred." Oak had a wry smile, remembering the mess it had caused.

"So she was a success, then?" Zeke muttered, trying to figure how it would work out in his mind.

Zeke saw a dark look on Professor Oak's face.

"What's wrong?"

Oak puffed on his pipe, fruit-scented smoke hung about his head.

"She isn't that old," Oak stated slowly. "Which means the experimenting is, or, until recently, was, still being executed." Oak's grave tone made Zeke look down at the child in his lap.

'It's not her, but the procedure that's got him all riled up.'

The air in the room was heavy with dark thoughts and worry.

"Professor?"

Snapped out of his reverie, Oak glanced at the four before him. "I'm sorry," he said, tapping out his pipe into a crude pokeball ashtray. "What was it you were really visiting for out here in the sticks?"

Zeke sucked in a deep breath and slowly explained his vision.

Leaning back in his chair, Oak digested the plan.

"Plans like yours have been tried in the past," Oak's professor voice was neutral, weighing each word carefully. "For various reasons they failed. What makes you think yours will fare any better?"

Oak stared Zeke dead in the eye. He wanted a real, well thought answer.

"First off, all the others were built in cities, or other areas where locals got their jollies fucking with people and pokemon at night. So I want it isolated. A mountain island would be best, to accommodate whatever type we need."

"Who would staff it?" Oak pushed.

"Specialists. Hopefully in psychology, but species specialists should be okay. And experienced therapists. Extensive background checks would be done before they even visit the facility."

Oak nodded.

"But I'll need the council scientists help, too," Zeke continued, returning Oak's hard stare. "Without your approval, or mine, would any pokemon be allowed. I don't want some corporate moneybag or celebrity imbecile dumping their pokemon for stupid shit a real trainer could fix."

The two men stared at each other for a long minute. Finally Oak nodded with a smile.

"It's a rough idea, but it's better than some I've heard." He pulled a notepad out of another coat pocket and jotted a few things down. "There's just one catch."

Zeke gritted his teeth. He had only heard good things about Professor Oak, but the same was said of his own father.

Seemingly at random, Oak picked up a folder and opened it, then handed Zeke a piece of paper from it. It was a map of the ocean west of Hoenn.

"An island was discovered in the tropics off the coast of Hoenn with never-before-seen pokemon. Details are vague, so there isn't much to tell you other than we're in need of strong trainers to guard our scientists and be trusted not to risk the operation."

Zeke's thoughts flew with lightning speed. He was reminded of the little girl who had curled up in his lap, asleep.

"She can't come," he stated.

"I've raised a kid or two in my time," Oak chuckled. Somewhere among the clutter was a photo of his grandchildren, Daisy and Gary; beside them a scrawny, black-haired boy with intense red eyes.

"She doesn't even have a name," Zeke said, his voice small.

Oak leaned in close to Zeke. "We'll take good care of her," he promised. "We'll keep teaching her what we can and once communications are set up you'll be able to contact and keep track of her."

Zeke could not believe that in such a short time he had grown this attached to a child. He tried to rationalize that it could be the pokemon part of her, but it was not a convincing argument.

"When do we leave?" Zeke asked at last.


End file.
